No Fear
by Mistress Arion
Summary: When Frodo decides to sail into the West, Gandalf must confront his feelings for the hobbit.


No Fear  
  
  
  
Frodo sighed, his pen dipping in his hand.  
  
It was no use, really.  
  
Slowly he stood and closed the ledger where his journal was scribed. There was nothing left to say; nothing left to do.   
  
With a thud and a heavy heart he placed the journal in its box, and laid the box away in the ancient brass-bound trunk he had inherited from Bilbo.  
  
I'm sure Sam and Rose will find a use for you, he thought affectionately as he patted the trunk's worn leathern side.  
I'm sure they'll find a use for all of this.  
  
He ruffled in the open trunk for a moment and withdrew an unrolled sheet of fresh parchment.  
  
He would send the message to Rivendell, and in a few weeks, at last, he could rest.  
  
  
Elrond again read the carefully drawn runes of Frodo's brief message. Long were the moments he paused to study one word, then another. At last he stood.  
  
Agleam were his eyes as he strode, and steady was his pace, yet elves and men alike shied from his approach as he passed along the corridors of the Last Homely House.  
  
At last he reached the door he sought, and he knocked with a heavy hand.  
  
The carven door swung inward with a sibilant hiss, and the half-elven lord stepped silently into the revealed sleeping chamber.  
  
"Mithrandir," he said quietly. "Gandalf."  
  
The chamber's solitary occupant did not turn from the roaring depths of the fire, but kept his eyes fixed to the sight of the mesmerizing flame.  
  
"For many ages I have known you," Elrond said, "but never have I seen you turn in fear from any quest. Why do you jerk so now at my step?"  
Gandalf gestured to the fire as Elrond moved to sit beside him on the padded couch.  
  
"I see much, in the blazing wood," the ancient wizard said, "and I hear much in your tread. That which may come to pass, and that which must pass away. What news do you bring me, that adds such weight to your feet?"  
  
The eyes of the elf-lord glittered as he wordlessly slid the parchment into the wizard's waiting hand.  
  
After a moment, the wizard returned the sheet.  
  
"What would you have me do, Elrond Half-Elven?" Gandalf asked grimly, turning at last to face the slender form beside him. "The third age is nearly gone, and he mourns its loss. Surely you would not deny him passage on the White Ship? He will go into the West and pass from the minds of men, as others have before." The bearded visage was cold and stern as he added, "One hobbit, who has held the fate of Middle Earth in his hands; can you ask that I refuse him the right to finally lay aside the weight?"  
  
Elrond took the wizard's gnarled right hand, and held it gently between his own smooth palms.  
  
"I ask not that you refuse him this journey, Mithrandir," Elrond said, "but because of his wish I ask that you speak of things long unsaid, mayhaps things that would..."  
  
"I know not of which you speak," Gandalf said sharply, pulling his hand from the elf's light grasp.  
  
"You lie, Mithrandir," Elrond said, easily reclaiming his hold on the wizard's fingers and palm. "Long have I wished to speak of this, and long have I allowed your fears to stay my tongue, yet now I will ask for the sake of our friendship you hear me."  
  
"Say on, Elf-born," Gandalf said softly, "but know you that your speech may banish the very friendship that gives it birth."  
  
Elrond nodded in understanding, "Then I will mourn for your loss, but I will have been to the end your boon companion and friend"  
  
"Long ago," the elf continued, "the One Ring was destroyed, yet the ring-bearer remained. Frodo remained."  
  
Gandalf nodded solemnly, wincing as he heard the name spoken.  
"I watched as you tarried here with him at your side. Gandalf the White, Gandalf Storm-Crow, smiling at a clever hobbit joke, laughing at a foolish hobbit prank."  
  
"I smiled and laughed as all did," Gandalf said.  
  
"Nay," said Elrond, "for it was you to whom he came to make the joke, you he never made the butt of the prank."  
  
The wizard shrugged.  
  
"And it was you who were the sharer of his grief. You who brought him to his feet when he weakened or tired."  
  
"You see dreams, and take them for actions," Gandalf said angrily, "Each of us strove to aid him as he prepared to return to his home, not I alone."  
  
Elrond shook his head gently.  
  
"Was it a dream when I watched him as he arranged your beard by the light of the hearth blaze? A dream when I saw him as he leaned against your knees to sup? It was you to whom he came with his heart."  
  
The wizard's lips had become a tight white line.  
  
"We will speak no more of this, Elrond Half-Elven, and on the morrow I will seek quarters in another place." The old man attempted to rise, glaring as the elf refused to release his hand.  
  
"We will speak, Mithrandir, for I will not allow your foolish pride and shame to send Frodo into the West." The elf stared into the wizard's eyes.  
  
"Say on," Gandalf snarled, "for all is undone, and our friendship is no more."  
  
Elrond smiled gently. "Then there is no longer a reason for cautious words." He grabbed the wizard's other hand and held both hands firmly in his own.  
  
"I watched as your eyes began to follow him as he went, and I saw as you began to pine for him when he was away."  
  
Gandalf sat in smoldering silence, every line in his body taunt with   
strain.  
  
"I saw the night he sat against you by the fire, and your body responded to his touch..."  
  
"And did you see that I returned to the North that night on the wings of the wind?" Gandalf gagged out, pulling one hand from Elrond's grasp to cover his mouth. "I did not do this thing that you imply! I did not hurt Frodo!"  
  
Elrond stared at the wizard in astonishment as the man plainly struggled to control his rising gorge.  
  
"I did not mean that you did," Elrond said, but the wizard did not hear.  
  
Gandalf's breath came in quick spurts, and his eyes shone with pain as he glared at the surprised elf.  
  
"It is not by my action that Frodo seeks to end his time in Middle Earth," Gandalf said. "Aye, I saw that he turned to me, to his friend, Gandalf the White." The old man spoke bitterly, and the elf would have hushed him but Gandalf held up a warning hand.  
  
"You have said what you came to say, elf-lord. Now I will speak. I saw he turned to me, and I cherished it."  
  
Elrond settled his body to hear the man's tale and smiled to himself. At last he understood the root of the problem, and could see the fixing of it.   
  
The wizard drew his pipe from the side of the couch and carefully filled it. Naught was said as the elf waited for the wizard to continue.  
  
"Long had it been since another turned to me in comfort and friendship, and the joy of it was strong in my heart. In his innocence he came to me, trusting me as a father, and I encouraged it, for his needs were great."  
  
Elrond nodded in partial agreement.  
  
"But slowly," Gandalf continued, "I began to take pleasure in his very nearness, in his thoughtless filial caresses."  
  
The man drew deeply on his pipe.  
  
"Many days I had allowed him to continue without reckoning the depth of my wrongful desire," Gandalf said, "I reasoned falsely that such feelings meant little and would pass away."  
  
The elf smiled sadly, and again took the wizard's hand into his own.  
"Share with me the rest of this tale, friend Gandalf," Elrond said.  
  
Gandalf squeezed the other's fingers tightly in dismay and remorse.   
  
"That night, by the fire, he moved to lean against me, and I drew my arm around him as always I had. He sighed, and laid his head against my shoulder, as if all his cares had suddenly been lifted away."  
  
Tears glistened in the old man's eyes as he continued to speak.  
"I touched his hair, and laid my hand against his face," he paused, then plunged onward, "and as he settled against me he brushed his lips across my hand."  
  
Elrond's fingers had gone numb in the wizard's crushing grip, and he watched with pity as the other man struggled to deal with his burden of guilt.  
  
"My sickness came raging up then, and I felt myself hardening. All I could see was his naked body beneath my own, my lips seeking his..."  
  
"What did you do?" Elrond asked.  
  
"I raised his face to my own, in my madness planning to take what I wanted so badly. But when his eyes met mine, I could not..." The wizard gulped air as if it were rarest wine. "I could not soil such innocence, destroy such trust. He looked at me and asked what was the matter."  
  
"And did you tell him?" Elrond asked.  
  
"Tell him what!" Gladly choked out, "That I had betrayed his trust? That he caused in me unnatural desires, that his friendship and love were almost rewarded with ...a disgusting old man's lecherous attack? He is young and in the fullness of his days, how could I expect him to look at my worn face and flowing beard and see..." He paused and shook his head, "I told him nothing, only hugged him to my breast for a moment, then asked him to leave."  
  
"And so you passed from his days like a shadow, without explanation?" Elrond asked.  
  
Too filled with the horror of his memory, Gandalf did not hear the sympathy and understanding in the other's voice.  
  
"Yes, I fled for the North immediately, I have not seen him since that evil night, and despite whatever you believe, I did not force myself upon him ere I went!"  
  
"Old fool."  
  
Gandalf's eyes flew wide at the insult, spoken in tones of both love and dismay.  
  
"You mock me at your risk elf-lord," Gandalf said menacingly. Shadows suddenly filled the corners of the chamber, and an icy wind blew the bedclothes.  
  
Elrond chuckled at the wizard's vehemence, then quickly waved placating hands as Gandalf reached for his staff.  
  
"Enough," he said, laughing. "Kill me naught before I rescue a foolish wizard from a prison of his own making, and a friend from needless loss."  
  
"Speak to me not in riddles," Gandalf said grimly.  
  
"Well then, I will speak plainly," Elrond said. "I came to you thinking Frodo had spoken his heart, and you had rejected him in shame and fear."  
  
Gandalf gasped.  
  
"But I find instead that you punish yourself for an attack that did not happen, upon a victim who would have welcomed it!" The elf shook his head in false dismay. "Foolish wizard."  
  
"Your meaning is lost to me," Gandalf said desperately, "you do not..."  
  
"Gandalf!" Elrond said in exasperation, "listen to me. Frodo is not a child! He is an adult hobbit, and, despite his small stature, a fierce warrior. He came to you not as a son, but as a hobbit in love."  
  
Gandalf shook his head swiftly, "I cannot..."  
  
"Listen to me you stubborn man!" Elrond roared. "Are you so foolish as to think that you alone in Middle Earth desire the strength of another man? I myself have had lovers both male and female since I passed beyond my childhood, among them Aragorn, son of Arathorn. There is no sickness here, no shame, only desire, and love."  
  
"You?" Gandalf said in astonishment. "You have..."  
  
"Frodo came to you, he touched you, in love, and what was your response?"  
  
Gandalf paled until his face assumed the whiteness of his flowing beard.  
  
"What was your answer?" Elrond asked again.  
  
"I...I rode north," Gandalf said haltingly.  
  
"Leaving behind a gentle soul who assumed that he both hurt and shamed you, and who has lived with this, alone, ever since."  
  
"Oh, Eru, what have I done?" Gandalf asked softly. "Do you believe it is truly thus?"  
  
Elrond nodded. "And now, when he can bear his shame, his loneliness, no longer, he seeks to pass alone into the West," Elrond said quietly. "He will go into that land as alone as he has lived, because a proud wizard cannot admit when he has wronged another."  
  
"I will go to him," Gandalf said in a whisper, "and if your words are fair I will return with him here and rejoin you as your brother and dearest friend. But if your council is dark, and my presence wounds him, then you shall have gained an enemy like none you have ever known."  
  
"I would risk this gladly, friend Gandalf," Elrond said, "and I will make ready rooms for the two of you as you return."  
  
Gandalf nodded, and rose with the elf lord.  
  
"Thank you, my friend," he said.  
  
  
  
  
Frodo slipped a small tray of honey cakes from the oven. There was just enough room for one of them, maybe two, in his stomach right now, and the rest would make a fine accompaniment to tea. As he waited for Elrond's response, each meal, each day, had become an exercise in saying farewell, and he tried to enjoy to the fullest the small pleasantries that made up a hobbit life.  
He was startled by a sudden tentative knock on the front door.  
  
"Blast," he muttered, "that must be Sam and Rose come to check on me, and here I am without cakes to share with all the children."  
  
"Wait a minute Sam!" he called loudly, trying to hide the tray of cakes.  
  
"And if Sam is not here?" a familiar voice asked hesitantly through the open window of the front parlor, "Should I come right in?"  
  
The tray did a slow somersault and tumbled to the floor. Frodo stood unmoving, his breath frozen in his chest.  
  
They have refused me passage, after all this time, he thought in despair. For what I have done, they have refused me and he has come to tell me so himself.  
  
"Frodo," the voice called again, "May I come in?"  
  
The hobbit's face burned with dull heat as he moved miserably to open the round front door.  
How I must have embarrassed him, thinking that he could, he would...want something so wrong, so distasteful. He was kind to me and I took advantage of that kindness to shame him. Oh Gandalf, I'm sorry.  
  
Frodo opened the door, his eyes downcast, and motioned the man to enter.  
  
"Gandalf," he said in a flat hopeless voice.  
  
  
  
The wizard's heart sank as he heard the chill in the slender hobbit's voice. Elrond was wrong, it was all wrong. Feeling small and very old he sat on the small couch and watched as the hobbit flopped despondently into a nearby chair.  
  
"Elrond has refused my request to sail into the West," Frodo said wearily, "I understand."  
  
Gandalf shook his head rapidly. "No, you do not my dear hobbit."  
  
The hobbit stared at his woolly feet, "Please, don't call me that." Tears ran to spatter on the carefully waxed floor. "Not after what I did."  
  
The wizard swallowed carefully past the lump in his throat. Elrond was right, oh Eru, Elrond was right.  
  
He drew his pipe from his robes and took a moment to tamp and arrange it just so.  
  
When at last he had regained control of himself, he spoke.  
  
"Frodo, come here," the man said gently.  
  
"I'm sorry Gandalf, so sorry," the hobbit whispered. He covered his face with his hands and wept as the warm rich pipe-smell filled the room. It made it smell like then, like before, like everything he had thrown away in a moment of foolish impulse.  
  
"Frodo, come here," Gandalf repeated softly.  
  
Still weeping, the hobbit did as he was told and moved to stand before the white-bearded wizard.  
  
"Please, Gandalf, forgive me," he sobbed, "I did not mean to imply that you wanted... that you would....please, forgive me."  
  
The wizard's heart broke asunder as he reached to cup the sobbing hobbit's chin  
  
"Frodo, look at me," he said.  
  
The hobbit shook his head no, but found his chin forced upward by the steady pressure of the large gnarled hand. He looked through a veil of tears at Gandalf's care-worn face and bright blue eyes.  
  
"Frodo, I am an old man, but even the old and wise are capable of being incredibly foolish." He stroked Frodo's dampened face.   
  
"Sit with me, as we used to."  
  
The hobbit closed his eyes tightly as he pivoted to sit at the wizard's right on the tiny couch.  
  
The space was small, and he found himself pressed firmly against the shining white robe. He began to cry harder as a warm arm slid across his shoulders and held him tightly.  
  
"Frodo," Gandalf said, "Why do you think I left you that night? Why I left the company?"  
  
Frodo struggled to find words as a strong hand caressed his back and shoulder.  
  
"Because of what I did," the hobbit said in a moan, "Because I was so stupid."  
  
"And what did you do that was so wrong?" Gandalf asked, damning himself for his unthinking callousness.  
  
"I...I kissed you. Your hand I mean," Frodo said.  
  
"And you believe that I fled from your touch?" Gandalf said.  
  
Frodo wiped his eyes with his hand, and looked at the wizard in confusion.  
  
"You were so good to me, so kind, and I repaid you by forgetting who you were and what I was and thinking that you would...that we could...that you lo...." He hobbit burst into tears anew.  
  
"Sh, Frodo, Shhh. It will be all right." The wizard put aside his pipe and slid his free arm beneath the hobbit's legs, and with a tug pulled the smaller body onto his lap. He continued to stroke the hobbit's back and shoulders as Frodo cried.  
  
When the sobs lessened and the hobbit began at last to relax, Gandalf spoke softly.  
  
"Now let me tell you about the mistakes of a foolish, thoughtless man," he said.  
  
"After the Ring was destroyed, we spent many days together on the road to the Shire. As each day passed, I cared for you more." Gandalf felt the hobbit stiffen in his arms, and hugged him briefly before continuing.  
  
"As I talked with you, touched you, I came to feel things that caused me great pain."  
  
Frodo turned his face from the wizard. "Because I am a hobbit, not a man. I knew that you would be shamed by my foolish longings, and I swore that you would never see their ilk."  
  
Gandalf looked at the hobbit in surprise, "My dearest Frodo, what does the fact that you are a hobbit matter?"  
  
Frodo bit his lip in anguish. "Because I am so small, and my feet...more like a child or an animal compared to...."  
  
"Hush," Gandalf said fiercely, "that was never the cause of my pain. I ached because I did not believe you shared the feelings I had for you. I told myself over and over that what I felt was wrong, perverse. I am an old man Frodo." The wizard pulled forth across his shoulder his heavy braid of snowy hair. " My hair is white, my body worn. I believed that you could not look at me in...that way."  
  
Frodo gasped and stared at the wizard in astonishment.  
  
"When you touched me, when you braided my beard, or rubbed my shoulders, I believed that I was soiling your trust by what I felt."  
  
"Oh Gandalf, never," the hobbit whispered in horror.  
  
"That night by the fire," the wizard said, "my body betrayed me, and I was forced to admit how very much I wanted you."  
  
"And when I kissed your hand?" Frodo said softly.  
  
"I wanted to take you, there and then."  
  
"But you left."  
  
"I left in shame and fear, because I could no longer control my actions, and I would not take you against your will."  
  
Wonderingly, the hobbit passed his hands along the wizard's face and through the length of his beard.  
  
"It would not have been against my will," he said simply. "Nor would it be now."  
  
  
  
  
  
Gandalf inhaled sharply, his hands suddenly trembling.  
  
"I would not hurt you, Frodo, then or now. Not to assuage my own lust."  
  
The hobbit smiled shyly.  
  
"Then you must be careful," he said, smiling. "But I believe that you are a gentle man, and care should come easily."  
  
Gandalf's heart ached at the trust behind the hobbit's simple words.  
  
Slowly the wizard passed a shaking hand across the hobbit's tear stained face. With a sigh Frodo pressed his lips to the man's palm.  
  
Gandalf moaned softly, and felt himself harden beneath his robes.  
  
The wizard breathed deeply as Frodo drew first one finger, then two, into his mouth. The hobbit twisted slightly to press himself more fully against the robed chest, and began to move his warm lips up and down, first drawing the digits deep, then releasing them to lick and suckle only the tips.  
  
"Frodo," the man whispered, "Oh Frodo." He leaned back and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the halfling's tongue. Gently he caressed the smaller one's arms and face with his free hand, gasping as the hobbit's mouth burned along his arm and onto his neck.  
  
"Frodo, wait."  
  
The hobbit jerked upright on the wizard's lap and terror shone in his eyes.  
"Gandalf, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.."  
  
"It's all right my dearest hobbit," the wizard said, and Frodo heaved a deep sigh of released fear.  
  
"I only wanted to ask you if this was something you had done before?"  
  
The hobbit shook his head no, then peeked shame-facedly at the wizard through his lashes.  
  
"Welllll, maybe a little, Gandalf. Just with Sam, when we were striplings. I kissed him, and we watched each other...you know. But that was all. Is that all right?" Frodo asked anxiously.  
  
Gandalf chuckled, "I was not asking from jealousy, Frodo, but from need. I have had many lovers, but never willingly one of my own gender. I am lacking in these arts."  
  
The hobbit smiled, "Well, as I have never had a lover, you are still to be my teacher in this as in all things."  
  
Gandalf looked at the hobbit quizzically, "Never another, at all?"  
  
The hobbit nodded carefully, biting his lower lip.  
  
"Then this that you give me is more precious than ever I dreamed."  
  
The wizard pressed his lips against Frodo's, carefully at first, then with growing abandon as the hobbit's mouth opened gradually to allow greater access.  
  
Gandalf felt the hobbit's muffled gasp as he slid his tongue slowly through the parted crimson lips. He allowed himself to explore the other's teeth and tongue, pausing to suck first the upper lip and then the lower briefly into his mouth.  
  
Frodo moaned into the wizard's mouth, and sucked greedily at the thrusting tongue. His small fingers wrapped themselves in Gandalf's braid.  
  
The wizard's hands moved along the halfling's body, one drifting downward to rub and squeeze at the small buttocks, the other across to fondle the tightening peaks of Frodo's nipples through his jerkin.  
  
The hobbit writhed in pleasure under the man's hands, gasping as he felt the size of the wizard's swelling erection beneath his legs. Carefully Gandalf slid the hobbit about on his lap, until his broad chest was pressed against Frodo's back and the smaller one was seated firmly on the wizard's left hand. Frodo felt long fingers sliding along the seam of his trousers, pushing and rubbing until he thought he would go mad from pleasure.  
  
The hobbit moaned more loudly still as the man slid his right hand beneath the leather jerkin and began to twist and tease the buds on his chest directly. Gandalf's tongue traced fire trails across Frodo's neck as the wizard began to thrust rhythmically against the young hobbit's tight buttocks and his own hand.  
  
"Gandalf, please," the hobbit begged, "tell me what..."  
  
"Nothing," the man hissed through clenched teeth, "it has been too long, and I desire you too much."  
  
Frodo felt the force and speed of the thrusting increase, and the wizard's hand moved from his chest to the aching mound between his legs. He jerked with pleasure as the man began to press and stroke his erection with each thrust.  
  
"Come with me," Gandalf rasped, then bowed his head to bite lightly at the joining of Frodo's neck and shoulder.  
  
Frodo shuddered joyfully at the feel of the wizard's teeth and tongue and hands, touching him, pleasuring him....this was Gandalf, Gandalf!  
  
All at once the man arched his back ,and his breathing quickened to hard pants.  
"Come for me, my Frodo."  
  
Electrified by the choked command, Frodo felt himself thrust across the brink. Crying out the wizard's name, he pushed himself against larger man.  
  
A moment of silence followed their mutual release, then two.  
  
Timidly, the hobbit asked at last, "Was I, acceptable?"  
  
Strong arms reached quickly to envelope him.  
  
"You were and are exquisite," Gandalf said gently, "But Frodo, we are hardly finished so soon."  
  
Frodo twisted to stare at the man with puzzlement, "But I thought..."  
  
"I needed release, Frodo," the wizard laughed, "so that I could take my time and see to your pleasure as well as my own."  
  
The hobbit looked uncertain and confused.  
  
Gandalf stroked his cheek gently, "Little one, if I had tried to lay with you as I was, I would have done you harm."  
  
"Then you still wish to be with me?" the hobbit asked in a small voice.  
  
"I wish to make love to you Frodo," Gandalf said, "And then I wish you to join me, in Rivendell."  
  
Frodo's eyes grew wide.  
  
"This ends not today?" the hobbit whispered in disbelief. "You would have me at your side, openly?"  
  
"How weak you think me Frodo," Gandalf chided. "To believe I would gain your heart, only to put it away again."  
  
Frodo threw his arms around the wizard's neck. "For so long I thought I had shamed you, then today, you came for me. You said that you cared for me. To have this after everything...it would have been enough. I dared not hope for more. I would have gone into the West joyfully, after this night."  
  
"I will not leave you again my hobbit," Gandalf smiled. He kissed the quivering hobbit soundly. "Now let us find some soft rugs and cozy blankets. We have much to teach one another and I would not attempt it in a hobbit-sized bed."  
  
  
  
In a few moments Frodo had assembled a broad pallet of pillows, comforters, rugs and blankets on the floor near the smoldering fire. As the hobbit worked, Gandalf wandered into the well-stocked kitchen, returning with a small flask of cooking oil.  
  
Frodo stared at the flask in confusion, then blushed furiously as he realized the wizard's intent. A sudden warmth blossomed in his midsection, and he felt his penis twitch in the tight confines of his trousers. Overcome with emotion, he sat suddenly on the makeshift bedding and drew his knees up against his chest.  
  
Mistaking the hobbit's confusion for fear, Gandalf's face darkened, and he set the flask aside.  
  
Foolish old man, he scolded himself, you have frightened him with your greed.  
  
"Do not worry, my Frodo," he said, "I will ask nothing of you that you do not wish to give freely."  
  
"No, it is not that," the hobbit said quickly, "for a moment I did not understand the need."  
  
"I would never wish to hurt you," Gandalf said.  
  
Frodo dipped his head slightly, and spoke so softly the wizard had to strain to hear.  
  
"...and when I understood, I could not believe that you would wish...that, with me."  
  
The old man moved to join the hobbit within the warm nest of blankets. He leaned against the low hearth ledge and regarded the slender figure in front of him for a long moment.  
  
"Frodo," Gandalf said at last, "tell me what you know of me."  
  
Frodo looked at the wizard in puzzlement.  
  
"What I know of you?"  
  
"Yes Frodo, tell me what you know, or believe you know, of me."  
  
"May I sit next to you while we speak?" the hobbit asked cautiously.  
  
"Of course you silly Baggins," the wizard laughed, holding out his arm in invitation.  
  
The smaller figure quickly scooted to the warmth of the wizard's side, rubbing his face against the white-bearded cheek.  
  
Snuggling the hobbit more firmly against him, so that he might tuck the woolly head beneath his own chin, Gandalf repeated, "Now, tell me what you know of me."  
  
"All right Gandalf, I will." Frodo thought for a moment. "I know that you are a great wizard, and that you have survived many perilous adventures. You have always come to the hobbits in their hour of need, and you pass the years also with great warriors and mighty kings. You have triumphed over the Necromancer, and Sauroman of Many-Colors."  
  
Sadness played across the man's face where the hobbit could not see.  
  
"I know that you were Gandalf the Gray, who was made again in Moria as Gandalf the White," Frodo continued, "and that you died at the hands of the Balrog, yet lived. You can recount the tales of the coming of the Third Age, yet no one can say if you were there as it began, you..."  
  
"Enough, my hobbit. Now tell me of yourself."  
  
"Myself, Gandalf? There is very little to tell."  
  
The old man smiled, "Humor me my friend."  
  
"If you wish," Frodo said, "I am Frodo Baggins, adopted son of Bilbo Baggins. I survived the War of the Rings, and I have nine fingers to show for it."  
  
"That is all?" the wizard asked.  
  
"It is very little, I know," the hobbit said in dejection, "and it is why I cannot believe, even now..."  
  
"Hush," Gandalf said, "let me tell you what I know of you."  
  
The halfling felt his muscles tighten in distress at what the man might say.  
  
"You are Frodo Baggins, who bore the one ring longer than any known being without joining the forces of Mordor."  
  
The hobbit shuddered at the mention of that dread land.  
  
"You are Frodo, who carried the ring I could not, who was strong enough, pure enough, to do what I could not."  
  
The hobbit stared at the wizard in astonishment.  
  
"Yes, Frodo, what I could not," Gandalf said. "The ring would have turned me to evil, in spite of all my good intentions, and I would have become Gandalf the Black, lordly and terrible beyond all understanding. Do you remember what I said, when in your innocence you offered me the ring?"  
  
"You cried for me to tempt you not," Frodo said.  
  
"I was weak," Gandalf agreed. "And because I could not be strong, it fell to you, most gentle hobbit, to carry the greatest evil our world had ever known. I failed you my Frodo, when I could not take from you the burden that you bore."  
  
"But you are..." Frodo began.  
  
"I am a man," Gandalf said. "Nothing more."  
  
"A man that I...care for," Frodo said, stroking the wizard's hand gently.  
  
"And I care for you Frodo," Gandalf said, "but when you act as if you are so far below me, it only reminds me of how I have failed you, and how I might fail again even now."  
  
The wizard looked at the hobbit with love, "I ask you to be not my plaything, beloved Frodo, but my friend and partner in all things."  
  
The halfling hugged the white bearded man fiercely. "I do not deserve the things you say of me," Frodo said, "but I would walk beside you always."  
  
  
Gandalf returned the hug, then leaned from the hobbit's grasp. The wizard moved his hands to the fastenings of his robes, opening first the outer layer, then the inner and drawing them from his shoulders. A shrug and the gleaming white fabric pooled at his waist.  
  
The man's naked upper body was revealed fully in the room's soft light, and Gandalf heard the hobbit's gasp at his exposure. With deliberate fingers he began to unplait his shining hair.  
  
"Let me, please," Frodo whispered. Carefully he undid the tight braid, spreading the wizard's hair to allow it to tumble freely across the man's shoulders and down his back.   
  
"This is what you would love, Frodo," Gandalf said, gesturing to himself, "an old man, much marked by time and care. Look closely at the marks my hobbit, for they will not vanish for all my added years."  
  
Bashfully the hobbit ran his hands across the gray-haired chest, so unlike his own smooth pectorals.  
  
"I think you are beautiful," Frodo said, then laughed abashedly at his own boldness. He buried his head in the wizard's bare chest to hide his flaming cheeks.  
  
Gandalf chuckled, "I cannot judge my own beauty properly, for I have naught to compare to. Perhaps you might aide me in this matter?" The wizard tucked a nearby pillow against the hearth ledge, and leaned back to rest his head and shoulders against the softness.  
  
Frodo fumbled with the lacings of his shirt and jerkin, knotting them in his haste to comply with the wizard's request. Gandalf laughed and reached to assist the swearing hobbit.  
  
The man's large hands made but a moments work of the stubborn ties, and he drew the cloth and leather easily over the halfling's head.  
  
Gandalf placed a light finger on the edge of Frodo's nipple, and inhaled heavily as the rosy peak tightened.  
  
"It is you who are beautiful," he said.  
  
Frodo leaned forward until their lips met. He moaned as he felt the man's tongue lick across his own, then gasped as the wizard brushed an eager hand across the buttons of his trousers.  
  
"Yes, please," the hobbit gasped out.  
  
Gandalf felt his erection throb at the halfling's plea. Unable to bear waiting any longer, he quickly undid the simple fastenings and pulled pants and breeches away.  
  
It took but another moment to push away his own loosened robes and pull the shivering hobbit into a bare-skinned embrace.  
  
"Anything you desire Gandalf, please," the hobbit begged.  
  
The wizard shivered at the feel of Frodo's skin against his own. He slid his palms across the taunt nipples, then lightly brushed the halfling's curly nest of pubic hair with his fingertips. He felt Frodo fasten his lips upon his neck and begin to first suck, and then bite gently.  
  
Gandalf wrapped his hand around the hobbit's swollen erection, covering it completely, and massaged the tight flesh carefully.  
  
"Gandalf, oh, Gandalf," Frodo whispered.  
  
Emboldened, the wizard began to slowly pump the hobbit's straining cock, pausing at intervals to swipe a damp finger quickly across the head, or to trace the prominent ridge on the underside with a caressing fingernail.  
  
Frodo moaned deep in his throat, and made as if to pull the man more closely to him.  
  
Gandalf rolled slightly, stopping when the smaller form lay partially covered by his own. He could feel the hobbit thrusting against his hand, and moved slightly so that the length of his own erection lay atop the halfling's stomach.  
  
"Oh, yes," Frodo gasped out, arching his back.  
  
Lost in pleasure, Gandalf moved his hand more firmly. He pressed his lips to one small nipple below him, sucking and licking harshly as Frodo neared the peak.  
  
Frodo writhed as the wizard's mouth moved from chest to neck, sucking, licking, biting...Nothing had ever felt this good, this right. He groaned with pleasure as he felt Gandalf shift his weight to his knee, then slide an exploring hand beneath him. Long fingers pinched lightly at the rounded buttocks, then slid to stroke the cleft between.  
  
As one probing digit traced gentle circles around his tightly clenched opening, Frodo could hold back no longer.  
  
"Gandalf, I'm going to...I'm"  
  
The man moaned as the hot spray jetted from the hobbit's cock and splashed his own groin and belly.  
  
Panting, the hobbit lay still for a moment as the tremors of orgasm subsided.  
  
When reason and mobility returned, Frodo was surprised to note the wizard was still hard as he lay on top of him.  
  
"Gandalf, what can I, how do I...pleasure you?"  
  
The wizard rolled back to the side, keeping one hand cupped firmly around the hobbit's buttock. With his other hand he lead the halfling's fingers to his shaft.  
  
"Touch me, Frodo," he said.  
  
Trembling, the hobbit ran his small hands along the man's erection. With dismay he noted that his fingers were barely long enough to circle the offered girth.  
  
"I'm too small," he almost wailed.  
  
"Have no fear my Frodo," Gandalf said, "it will be enough to please me."  
  
Smiling, the wizard covered the small hands with his own, and began to stroke the throbbing length.  
  
"No," the hobbit said, "there is something else you would choose." He squirmed from the wizard's grasp and reached for the flask of oil.  
  
Gandalf's breath came harder as he took the offered flask.  
  
"Be sure, my Frodo, for I would never wish to take something which should be a gift."  
  
"I am sure," the hobbit replied, "I want to feel you, inside me." He moved to position himself on hands and knees when he felt the old man's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You must be on top," the man said, "so that I might not accidentally cause you harm."  
  
The wizard's hands shook as he helped the halfling to sit astride his legs. His cock rose between them, and Frodo used both hands to squeeze up and down it's moist surface.  
  
The wizard poured the oil into his palms, rubbing briefly to warm it. He stroked the hobbit's back and buttocks, then carefully parted the small cheeks to spread the oil on the cleft in between.  
  
He reached for the oil flask again, this time pouring the slippery fluid directly onto his own erection.  
  
Placing the oil aside, Gandalf returned to his exploration of the hobbit's body, caressing the tight cheeks, then spreading them briefly before resuming his easy fondling touches.  
  
Frodo's recently spent penis jerked and began to stiffen as the man slid his fingers down between his buttocks and across his anus. He leaned forward slightly to rub himself against the wizard's swollen erection.  
  
"Not so soon, my friend," Gandalf chuckled. He placed his hands on the hobbit's hips and lifted slightly, allowing his cock to slip deliciously between the halfling's asscheecks. Pressing the buttocks together, he began to rock slightly.  
  
Frodo felt his erection growing as the wizard's penis slid back and forth against the sensitive skin. After a few moments he could bear no more.  
  
"Please, Gandalf, inside me," he said, spreading his legs more widely.  
  
The wizard released the halfling's buttocks and, shifting his own cock to the side, slowly slid a finger to press lightly on Frodo's anus. He circled the puckered hole for a moment, then pushed the lubricated digit in half-way.  
  
The hobbit whimpered as the man withdrew slightly, then again thrust forward, this time allowing the length of his finger to enter the hot, tight opening.  
  
"I have dreamed of this for so long," the wizard whispered.  
  
Frodo offered a muffled scream as the questing finger stroked across his prostate.  
  
"Have I hurt you?" Gandalf asked in fear. His hand froze.  
  
"No," the hobbit gasped out, "please, don't stop."  
  
Relaxing slightly, the man again began to thrust carefully, allowing the hobbit time to become accustomed to the sense of fullness.  
  
When he felt the muscles ease, granting his finger greater access, Gandalf slid a second finger to join the first. Frodo moaned wordlessly and began to push against the penetrating digits.  
  
Excited beyond reckoning, and knowing he could not last much longer, the wizard worked a third and forth finger into the narrow channel. For a moment he simply basked in the sensation of warmth, then began to work his hand back and forth, spreading and loosening the tight flesh.  
  
Frodo tried to relax as waves of pain and pleasure shot through him Fear and arousal warred for control as he felt his sphincter stretching under the man's ministrations. Suddenly he was empty as the wizard removed his fingers and poised his cock for entrance.  
  
With a thrust the wizard's cockhead was inside him, pushing against the tender flesh.  
  
"Oh Frodo, so tight," Gandalf moaned. With an effort he held himself still, fighting the urge to bury his swollen length in the hobbit's backside.  
  
Frodo could feel the other's indecision. Gingerly the hobbit pushed slightly against the man's erection, and was rewarded with a groan as it slid deeper into his rectum. Carefully he began to shift, first up and the down, driving the wizard deeper with each downward push. As he continued to move he felt the pain slowly change to scalding pleasure.  
  
"Take me Gandalf, now," he begged.  
  
With a deep breath the wizard wrapped his arm around the hobbit's narrow waist and began to thrust. His other hand again wrapped the hobbit's erection, tugging and pulling in time to his measured strokes.  
  
Frodo gasped as the wizard's cock seared into him with each push, exquisite agony forcing him closer and closer to the brink.  
  
"Gandalf," he whispered.  
  
The wizard was lost in a world of ecstasy.  
  
So perfect, so beautiful, he thought wonderingly. He felt orgasm approaching , and thrust harder with each stroke.  
  
"Frodo, my beloved hobbit," the man groaned, "soon, so soon."  
  
He felt his muscles tense in preparation for the coming release, and thrust once more deep into the hobbit's bowels.  
  
Frodo writhed in the grip of his own climax as he felt the fluid erupt from Gandalf's cock. The wizard moaned wordlessly as he pulled the hobbit tighter to him.  
  
Gandalf lay still at last, shivering gently as his softening erection slipped from it's place between the hobbit's rounded cheeks. Exhausted, Frodo leaned forward to lay full-length along the man's chest and legs.  
  
The old wizard wrapped his arms around the halfling and hugged him tightly.  
  
"I would have you know I meant that which I cried out," he said quietly.  
  
Frodo looked at the man questioningly.  
  
"You are my beloved hobbit, my beloved Frodo, my...beloved," the wizard said.  
  
"And you are mine," the hobbit replied, "I will stay with you as long as you choose to have me, and I would follow you even into the West."  
  
"When the time is come, we will make that journey together," the wizard said lovingly, "but the time is not yet and I will speak not of endings before we have fairly begun."  
  
"Is this, then, a beginning?" Frodo asked.  
  
"Of many thing my dear hobbit. Of many things."  
  
  
The fire flickered low, and there was naught then but silence, and a slow decent to sleep.  
  
Finis.  



End file.
